Home > Activity 2-A-2: Where I'm From: Please be sure to note which comment is yours. Thanks! :)
Instructions:
Read the poem Where I'm From by George Ella Lyons. If you wish, you can also listen to the author read her poem by clicking on the speaker next to the words "Listen to George Ella read the poem."
Write your own I am from… poem following the basic structure provided in the examples. Use images and metaphors for multiple senses. You may use this template as a guide for your poem.
Post your poem to the course wiki:
Click the Edit tab in the upper-right corner.
Scroll down the page until you see the first empty Where I'm From Poem space.
Highlight the "Enter your name here." text and type your name.
Copy your poem text from the word processing document. Highlight the "Paste your poemhere." text and paste your poem.
Press Save on the Editor bar.
Comment on at least two other people's poems. In your comments, note any images that stood out to you from the poem and compare your own experiences to those of your peers. To comment:
Click the Edit tab in the upper-right corner.
Scroll down the page until you see the comment section under the poem you want to comment on.
Type your comments followed by your first name and last initial.
Press Save on the Editor bar.
Where I'm From Poems
Kimberly
Poem:Where I From
I am from dust from dirt and air. I am from the Savanna, a tropical drought resistant glass land of the earth. I am from the spirituals and prayers and God praising kin, Kings and Queens. I am from the hard working South - sun up to sun down and proud, from sons of slaves, and slaves and free unknowns. I am from the love of family weekly devotion to a superior being (God). From knowing my Great, Great, Great Grand Father was a slave and my Grand Father was the “American Dream” an educated American citizen whose words of wisdom are still my guiding force. I am the offspring of descendants from the red clay soil of the South and it’s horrific past in America, with fond remembrances of sorghum syrup, churned butter, buttermilk biscuits and living off the abundance of produce and live stock your land sowed to you. From stories of a Great, Great, Great, Grand Father who often ran away from the plantation, to experience life outside of slavery, but was never caught because he was a fast runner and could return before they knew he was gone. From a Great, Great, Big Ma that owned her own thriving business in town. Despite the segregation that existed was able to send to send my Grand Daddy to a university in the South to be educated. To be the first college generation family educator, but then proceeded to his calling to minister and save souls. I am from the dust that Angelou’s speaks of because “still I rise,” too! My ethnic heritage does not hold me back from the person I am, the achievements that I am to accomplish, and the dreams I want to live
Comments: I found it interesting to read your poem. You have such a rich family history full of stories and important country history. I lack any family history past my grandparents. I appreciate that you dug deep into that history and shared it throughout this poem. I especially enjoyed when you mention your great great and then your grand father and difference it showed between them. You really painted an amazing picture talking about your relative that ran away from the plantation. Your history is fascinating. Do you find it hard to know that your ancestors faced such a hard time? Or do you find more pride that they overcame that? Elizabeth I love the imagery you use about our roots within the dust, the earth. You mentioned your Spirituality and its part of you also. I am thinking of Gen 2:7 "The Lord God formed us from dust from the ground". Yours is a beautiful poem. John Pahls Name: Marzena Krygier.
Poem: I'M FROM… I am from green meadows and overflowing rivers, from freshly baked buns and heavenly tasting cheese. I am from the fourth floor of an apartment building and a wooden house with a coal stove and an attic hiding secrets of the past. I am from the acacia and chestnut trees, sweet-smelling violets in the spring. I am from hard working farmers and teachers, soldiers, firemen and bakers. Kind and emotional, caring and big hearted. I am from the givers and forgivers. From grandmother’s war stories and village tales. I am from a Renaissance church with golden altars, wooden benches and Christ hanging on the cross. I'm from the little Krakow as they call my town, a medieval castle, kings and knights. From the land of fertile soil and apricot trees. From a brave grandfather who fought for the country and grandmother whose love knows no end. I am from black and white photographs in an old green album, narrow streets and fields that smell like no others.
Comments: I really enjoyed reading your poem. I especially enjoyed the visual I got when reading about your apartment and the attic "hiding secrets of the past." It gave me chills because I got a very vidid scene painted in from of me. It also made me question what type of fun things may be hidden in your attic. I related it to the secrets of my attic that include anything and everything from ancestors to every single school worksheet I have ever completed!
Marz, what war does your grandmother have memories of? (Shawn) I love the line about your grandparents. You can feel the love you have for them in that line. I love that you listed givers and forgivers. Once I read that line I wanted to steal it! I think that is the secret to a happy family- Abbey J Marz, I love the imagery you portray in your poem, it conveys the scenery and landscape of your home. It makes me want to visit! Your family sounds like hardworking and loving people. I think you have a real talent with imagery writing! (Katie M)
Marz: Thank you for the comments. Shawn, my grandmother has memories of war as she was a teenager during the II World War and remembers the soldiers coming to occupy their house, bullets striking their home. She has memories of her family hiding a Jewish girl in the attic. She still lives in the same house and I always think it is special. As a child I was afraid to play in the garden as I was told their are soldiers buried there. Name: Elizabeth "Libby" Pasquale
I am from the rolling green farmlands with the sun brightly setting behind the highest fieldof PA farms.
I am from saxophones from Kraft Mac & Cheese and fairytales.
I am from the hay, the dandelions, the smell of alfalfa, and homemade grape jellyI am from Muddy Buddies and gnocchis passed down through my grandmothers. I am from a sister who wished dearly on her 5th birthday for a baby sister. A wish that left my mother in tears for she had tried for years. From a wish that came true three days later. A wish that left everyone speechless. I am from loud voices and strong opinions but giant loving hearts.From the boogie man and the yeti that lurk in within the heights of the Himalayas. I am from a religion found corrupt but reformed through travel.
I'm from stories of beautiful vineyards of Italy passed down from my grandparents.I am from pizza and pasta that never disappoint. From the ceiling fan that brought my parents to meet. The weeks on end spent talking and laughing. From the fan that still spins on in the life of my parents’ marriage in our family room loft. I am from the breeze that blows down from the ceiling through the life of an older sister who now has a child of her on. I am from that constant breeze that will continue on. I am from the colorful leaves floating down from the trees. The ski slopes in the distant with the snow caped mountains of the east. From the mountain lion that waits for darkness to fall and fresh food to be left. But mostly, I am from a loving family who sits on the porch talking freely about the day as the sun goes down behind those beautiful farm hills. Comments: Libby, your poem is very enjoyable to read and there are a few images that stood out as I was reading it. I could see the fan and even hear its noise. I could taste the gnocchis (which I love) and your description of your wish for a sister that came true is moving. I've noticed some similarities between our poems such as loving nature of your ancestors and greenery of the farmland, where I also spent a big part of my childhood. (Marz Krygier).
Hi Marz, It was actually my sister's wish. I can thank her for that one. Any time that I annoy her or we fight I just remind her that I was her wish come true! I read your poem and I noticed the similarities as well. Nature is such a beautiful thing isn't it? Libby
Comment: Libby, I am SO curious how the ceiling fan helped your parents meet. I am from PA also and I remember gnocci being served at the college cafeteria all the time :)
Libby, I can tell you, from one Pennsylvanian to another, there are not days that go by that I appreciate the rolling hills and farmland that I see today. It is mind numbing to see how many farms are being destroyed for more housing. It is also so neat to see how your sister's wish has come full circle, now that she has her own child. Thank you for sharing! (Shawn)
Hi Shawn, My mother lived in a house that was in desperate need of a fan. After ending her first marriage, she was married at the age of 21, she moved in to a house by herself and needed a fan to keep the air at the right temperature. My grandfather, a contractor, called up my father, an electrician, to install a fan for her. My father told my grandfather he would send a worker over right away. My grandfather instructed that it was an important job and that he needed to do it himself, he was being a matchmaker you see. My father went to my mother's house and lets just say the fan took over two weeks to be installed. A simple 30 minute job two into two weeks of taking and laughing every night instead of actually installing the fan. Less than a year later my parents were married and my mom was pregnant with my sister! They moved into the farm house we now live in and brought the fan with them.
It has now been 30 years since my parents met. We still live in the same house with the same fan in our family room. It has become a very strong symbol of their marriage and our family. As for our farm, it is still going strong. We lived on a road full of farms and cute farm houses when I was born. Sadly our entire road has been transformed into big houses with small itty bitty yards. My parents swear by their lives our farm will not be touched or moved and that no one can offer enough money to take away their beautiful nature. Libby Hi Libby: I loved the line "I am from loud voices and strong opinions but giant loving hearts." I hear in these lines someone who looks beyong the suface impression to the intention that dwells within, as you say, the heart of the person. This looking deeper into who others are at their core is the crux of this course in its attempt to bridge differences. John Pahls
Libby,
Reading the story behind the fan literally made me cry! How did your grandfather know?? And imagine if by chance, your father had sent a worker over, how different would your lives be? You could totally write a novel about that!!! I loved the use of colors to emphasize the images, which are already rich in themselves. I love how you describe your parents love to be strong and that the life that they built together cannot be bought. -- Lina Name:Abbey Juzwiak
Poem:
I am from cookie cutters from rainbow sprinkles and a white Kitchen aid mixer.
I am from the sparkle in the kitchen floor from my mother's own two hands.
I am from 3 sisters playing in corn fields, the smell of roses coming from the memory garden.
I am from competitive card games and asthma inhalers , from Darcey Jean and Emily Jane.
I am from over achievers and tell it like it is.
From be nice to your sisters and always tell the truth.
I am from communion every Sunday and love your neighbor as your self
I'm from York, PA, homemade mac and cheese, roast and carrots
From matching pajamas on Christmas Eve, and Halloween parties to scare even the bravest.
From the heartbreak of losing 2 children, to baby blue dreams come true on a plane from Korea
I am from home videos, Disney vacation pictures on the fireplace and wedding photos on the wall,
showing the love and shared faith of a family.
Comments: I feel like many of your lines could be lines for my poem as well! I particularly bond with the "over achievers" line and "Communion every Sunday" line.
Hi, Abbey, thank you for the personal honesty you brought to your poem. Now that I live in Lancaster, PA, it is so interesting to me to see how homemade mac and cheese is made. My version of chicken pot pie is nothing like the version in Dutch Country. :) (Shawn) I smiled when you mentioned your mixer, I love to bake and my mixer is a huge part of that :) I am also from roast and carrots, most Sundays my mom made this. -Amy T. Hi, Abbey , I like the imagery you used in your poem , especially the matching pajamas on Christmas, this is something my family does to. Your poem conveys a lot of happy memories that sound similar to my own memories of childhood. (KatieM)
Abbey, I enjoyed reading your poem that conveys the values that shaped your family. My favourite line is the sparkle in the kitchen floor. It makes me wonder if there was a sparkling particle hidden there or was the floor sparkling because it was so well cleaned? (Marz) Name: John Pahls
Poem:
I am from long bike rides in Western Hills ; from homemade garlic butter popcorn skillfully made and coca cola weekend nights in front of the TV.
I am from the suburbs of a Midwestern city, former farmland now boxed and trimmed, subdivided, yet alive and loving.
I am from the blossoming trees in the front of the house of the small suburban plot, beautiful white and pink blossoms in the spring, rainy cool days.
I am from bowling trips with Dad and siblings on Christmas Eve, and Cincinnati Reds games in the summer, from Grandpa Henry and Uncle Clyde, Aunt Ebby, and the Pahls and the Adams.
I am from a reserved temperament and deeply held feelings.
From day dreaming and long treks in the summertime.
I am from the nearby neighborhood Catholic Church, big, expansive roof and large space, Mass in the afternoon, its tranquil atmosphere and soft lighting an alternative to the raucous, disordered, small but lively house.
I'm from Cincinnati, and Virginia, from German and Irish immigrants from the century before, from the wonderful smells of cooking at Christmas, mince meat pies, fruitcakes, caramel apple pies and small 8 ounce glasses of orange juice in the morning. No more than 8 ounces a day because it was too expensive.
From the breakfast made every morning by Mom waking up early, bacon, eggs and toast every Monday and Tuesday, chipped beef on toast or pancakes Wednesday and Thursday, Honey Dip doughnuts on Friday. Summer trips waking up early in the morning to avoid traffic.
I am from early memories of Dad coming home from work late, tall, with work shoes that boomed as he walked on the hardwood floors, of Mom being happy he is home and a secure feeling pervading the house. I am from Aunt Dolores throwing her head back and laughing loudly. I am from older cousins happy and loving, of long ago memories refreshed and restored through this exercise.
Comments:
John, I can completely relate to waking up early for vacations and driving before the traffic becomes too heavy. To this day, this practice is ingrained in me; I drag my family through this as well. (Shawn) Name:Beth Mowrey
Poem: I am from home cooked meals every night, from Archway cookies when we travel and the m&m jar. I am from the 2 story colonial, the screened in porch, the swing set and sand box surrounded by giant pine trees. I am from the family garden, tomatoes, prickly cucumbers, red beets that I’ll never eat, mom’s marigolds. I am from long tables set up for Thanksgiving dinner and weekend day trips to visit my brothers and sisters, from Kate and Bill and the Albrights and Overbergers. I am from the hard workers and family first motto. From “always give a firm handshake” and “learn a new word everyday” I am from a Catholic Faith that seemed like a chore, disappeared, and has now rekindled. I'm from suburbia with sidewalks, pork and sauerkraut on New Year’s Day and Goodnoe’s ice cream or a Klondike bar at night. From terminal colon cancer, the high cholesterol, the love through tough times. I am from clear shoeboxes filled with photos containing my mother’s handwriting on the back, always cherished as a way to connect with those who are gone.
Comments:
Beth, Growing up, what were some of the new words that you still remember and use today? (Shawn) Shawn- My dad would tell me that every morning when he got to work, he would pick a "big" word from the dictionary and then try to use it when talking with others throughout the day. This always gave me a chuckles as I envisioned my dad secretly peeking into a dictionary at his desk and snickering as he used it to impress others. I only wish I had the same habit!!!! I think of my dad every time when I see Archway cookies-he loved them and I remember my mom buying them for him a lot :) This brings good memories to me. I can relate to being from hard-workers. My family always worked very hard at their jobs and in their lives. I know that work ethic was instilled in me over the years too. -Amy T. Beth, I love that you wrote about a specific food when you traveled. We always ate egg salad sandwiches when we traveled to Michigan every summer to see my extended family. I love the firm handshake line. My family always talked about the importance of a firm handshake too. Name: Amy
Beth the images of home cooked meals, pork and sauerkraut brought back my childhood memories:-) Marz
Poem: Where I’m From
I am from laughter in the kitchen, from the ranch house on Madison Avenue that smelled of fresh baked cookies.
I am from the fresh sage, rosemary and thyme in the kitchen to the vibrant, red, geraniums in the flower pots in the yard in the summer.
I am from decorating for Christmas and courage, from mom and dad who never let me down.
I am from over-protectedness and love.
From stories of back in the day and all the fun that was had.
I am from spiritual beliefs and faith of something bigger than ourselves.
I am from being an only child to cinnamon buns and freshly baked pies that smelled of fruit and crust.
From the stories of my grandma’s alcohol recovery to my dad’s hard working years as a body shop mechanic. My father, so talented at re-making a car look brand new from wrecks and old age to shiny new parts and paint.
I am from family photos of vacations took and achievements made.
I am from all the places I was able to go and all the school I was able to attend. The different places visited and seen.The classes passed and degrees earned.
I am from pride, love and strength.
Comments: Hi, Amy, It sounds like your family has quite a bit to be proud of. I enjoyed hearing about all of your memories. (Shawn) Name: Katie Marsh
Poem:
I am from the dark, round dining room table my grandfather made, Ivory soap, and cheerios
I am from my grandma’s painting of a parade on the wall and potpourri simmering on the woodstove
I’m from the maple tree with the red and gold leaves swirling around me, the pond full of frogs and toads
I’m from hard boiled, cracked Easter eggs, determination, teachers, nurses, doctors, and artists
I’m from Neil Diamond records playing into the night
From, “This too shall pass” and “Now I lay me down to sleep”
I’m from freethinkers who would rather walk alone than follow the crowd
I’m from cherry orchards and honey keepers, fresh croissants and homemade blackberry jam
From two little girls who adore each other to this day, and hugged and loved and helped each other through thick and thin
I’m from a grandmother who died before I was born and left a hole in all our hearts, and a strong between sisters I call aunts
I’m from the framed photos on my dad’s walls, the photo albums in my mom’s closet, and the loving, crazy, and talented people I call my family
Comments: Hi, Katie, your memory of your grandmother struck a chord with me, as my grandfather died before I was born. Unfortunately, my one grandmother passed 11 years ago on Christmas Eve, and my other grandmother died last spring. Cherish the memories you have with those around you for as long as possible! (Shawn) Name: Lina
Poem:
I am from the cheese slicer, which holds my imaginary family together, from wine and restaurant pizza.
I am from the sea, the sun, open doors and windows for the salty air to breeze through.
I am from the Lady of the Night, which only blooms in the dark, the cactus who flowers only when shielded by darkness.
I am from no family tradition and long distance, from Len and Daniel and Makoa, who I haven’t met yet, and Elizabeth, my substitute mama.
I am from the blaming and holding silence.
From ‘you sound like an elephant coming up the stairs’ and ‘get me the newspaper’.
I am from questioning and curiosity, agnostic at most on my Believing days.
I'm from Curaçao and the Ivory Coast and Denmark, goat stew and tangy cilantro too.
From the fight against cancer to the end, the tumors that don’t let go, the bitterness of a life not fully lived.
I am from the Redwoods and flamingos, a time once upon a time, when we were a family.
Comments: Lina, the sounds you describe sound familiar to what I heard in my house. You referenced 'the blaming and holding silence.' Was that a large part of your childhood? (Shawn) Name: Enter your name here.
Home > Activity 2-A-2: Where I'm From: Please be sure to note which comment is yours. Thanks! :)
Instructions:
Where I'm From Poems
Kimberly
Poem: Where I From
I am from dust from dirt and air.
I am from the Savanna, a tropical drought resistant glass land of the earth.
I am from the spirituals and prayers and God praising kin, Kings and Queens.
I am from the hard working South - sun up to sun down and proud, from sons of slaves, and slaves and free unknowns.
I am from the love of family weekly devotion to a superior being (God).
From knowing my Great, Great, Great Grand Father was a slave and my Grand Father was the “American Dream” an educated American citizen whose words of wisdom are still my guiding force.
I am the offspring of descendants from the red clay soil of the South and it’s horrific past in America, with fond remembrances of sorghum syrup, churned butter, buttermilk biscuits and living off the abundance of produce and live stock your land sowed to you.
From stories of a Great, Great, Great, Grand Father who often ran away from the plantation, to experience life outside of slavery, but was never caught because he was a fast runner and could return before they knew he was gone. From a Great, Great, Big Ma that owned her own thriving business in town. Despite the segregation that existed was able to send to send my Grand Daddy to a university in the South to be educated. To be the first college generation family educator, but then proceeded to his calling to minister and save souls.
I am from the dust that Angelou’s speaks of because “still I rise,” too! My ethnic heritage does not hold me back from the person I am, the achievements that I am to accomplish, and the dreams I want to live
Comments: I found it interesting to read your poem. You have such a rich family history full of stories and important country history. I lack any family history past my grandparents. I appreciate that you dug deep into that history and shared it throughout this poem. I especially enjoyed when you mention your great great and then your grand father and difference it showed between them. You really painted an amazing picture talking about your relative that ran away from the plantation. Your history is fascinating. Do you find it hard to know that your ancestors faced such a hard time? Or do you find more pride that they overcame that?
Elizabeth
I love the imagery you use about our roots within the dust, the earth. You mentioned your Spirituality and its part of you also. I am thinking of Gen 2:7 "The Lord God formed us from dust from the ground". Yours is a beautiful poem. John Pahls
Name: Marzena Krygier.
Poem:
I'M FROM…
I am from green meadows and overflowing rivers, from freshly baked buns and heavenly tasting cheese.
I am from the fourth floor of an apartment building and a wooden house with a coal stove and an attic hiding secrets of the past.
I am from the acacia and chestnut trees, sweet-smelling violets in the spring.
I am from hard working farmers and teachers, soldiers, firemen and bakers. Kind and emotional, caring and big hearted.
I am from the givers and forgivers.
From grandmother’s war stories and village tales.
I am from a Renaissance church with golden altars, wooden benches and Christ hanging on the cross.
I'm from the little Krakow as they call my town, a medieval castle, kings and knights. From the land of fertile soil and apricot trees.
From a brave grandfather who fought for the country and grandmother whose love knows no end.
I am from black and white photographs in an old green album, narrow streets and fields that smell like no others.
Comments:
I really enjoyed reading your poem. I especially enjoyed the visual I got when reading about your apartment and the attic "hiding secrets of the past." It gave me chills because I got a very vidid scene painted in from of me. It also made me question what type of fun things may be hidden in your attic. I related it to the secrets of my attic that include anything and everything from ancestors to every single school worksheet I have ever completed!
Marz, what war does your grandmother have memories of? (Shawn)
I love the line about your grandparents. You can feel the love you have for them in that line. I love that you listed givers and forgivers. Once I read that line I wanted to steal it! I think that is the secret to a happy family- Abbey J
Marz, I love the imagery you portray in your poem, it conveys the scenery and landscape of your home. It makes me want to visit! Your family sounds like hardworking and loving people. I think you have a real talent with imagery writing! (Katie M)
Marz: Thank you for the comments.
Shawn, my grandmother has memories of war as she was a teenager during the II World War and remembers the soldiers coming to occupy their house, bullets striking their home. She has memories of her family hiding a Jewish girl in the attic. She still lives in the same house and I always think it is special. As a child I was afraid to play in the garden as I was told their are soldiers buried there.
Name: Elizabeth "Libby" Pasquale
I am from the rolling green farmlands with the sun brightly setting behind the highest fieldof PA farms.
I am from saxophones from Kraft Mac & Cheese and fairytales.
I am from the hay, the dandelions, the smell of alfalfa, and homemade grape jellyI am from Muddy Buddies and gnocchis passed down through my grandmothers.
I am from a sister who wished dearly on her 5th birthday for a baby sister. A wish that left my mother in tears for she had tried for years. From a wish that came true three days later. A wish that left everyone speechless.
I am from loud voices and strong opinions but giant loving hearts.From the boogie man and the yeti that lurk in within the heights of the Himalayas.
I am from a religion found corrupt but reformed through travel.
I'm from stories of beautiful vineyards of Italy passed down from my grandparents.I am from pizza and pasta that never disappoint.
From the ceiling fan that brought my parents to meet. The weeks on end spent talking and laughing. From the fan that still spins on in the life of my parents’ marriage in our family room loft. I am from the breeze that blows down from the ceiling through the life of an older sister who now has a child of her on. I am from that constant breeze that will continue on.
I am from the colorful leaves floating down from the trees. The ski slopes in the distant with the snow caped mountains of the east. From the mountain lion that waits for darkness to fall and fresh food to be left. But mostly, I am from a loving family who sits on the porch talking freely about the day as the sun goes down behind those beautiful farm hills.
Comments: Libby, your poem is very enjoyable to read and there are a few images that stood out as I was reading it. I could see the fan and even hear its noise. I could taste the gnocchis (which I love) and your description of your wish for a sister that came true is moving.
I've noticed some similarities between our poems such as loving nature of your ancestors and greenery of the farmland, where I also spent a big part of my childhood. (Marz Krygier).
Hi Marz,
It was actually my sister's wish. I can thank her for that one. Any time that I annoy her or we fight I just remind her that I was her wish come true! I read your poem and I noticed the similarities as well. Nature is such a beautiful thing isn't it?
Libby
Comment: Libby, I am SO curious how the ceiling fan helped your parents meet. I am from PA also and I remember gnocci being served at the college cafeteria all the time :)
Libby, I can tell you, from one Pennsylvanian to another, there are not days that go by that I appreciate the rolling hills and farmland that I see today. It is mind numbing to see how many farms are being destroyed for more housing. It is also so neat to see how your sister's wish has come full circle, now that she has her own child. Thank you for sharing! (Shawn)
Hi Shawn,
My mother lived in a house that was in desperate need of a fan. After ending her first marriage, she was married at the age of 21, she moved in to a house by herself and needed a fan to keep the air at the right temperature. My grandfather, a contractor, called up my father, an electrician, to install a fan for her. My father told my grandfather he would send a worker over right away. My grandfather instructed that it was an important job and that he needed to do it himself, he was being a matchmaker you see. My father went to my mother's house and lets just say the fan took over two weeks to be installed. A simple 30 minute job two into two weeks of taking and laughing every night instead of actually installing the fan. Less than a year later my parents were married and my mom was pregnant with my sister! They moved into the farm house we now live in and brought the fan with them.
It has now been 30 years since my parents met. We still live in the same house with the same fan in our family room. It has become a very strong symbol of their marriage and our family. As for our farm, it is still going strong. We lived on a road full of farms and cute farm houses when I was born. Sadly our entire road has been transformed into big houses with small itty bitty yards. My parents swear by their lives our farm will not be touched or moved and that no one can offer enough money to take away their beautiful nature.
Libby
Hi Libby:
I loved the line "I am from loud voices and strong opinions but giant loving hearts." I hear in these lines someone who looks beyong the suface impression to the intention that dwells within, as you say, the heart of the person. This looking deeper into who others are at their core is the crux of this course in its attempt to bridge differences. John Pahls
Libby,
Reading the story behind the fan literally made me cry! How did your grandfather know?? And imagine if by chance, your father had sent a worker over, how different would your lives be? You could totally write a novel about that!!! I loved the use of colors to emphasize the images, which are already rich in themselves. I love how you describe your parents love to be strong and that the life that they built together cannot be bought. -- Lina
Name: Abbey Juzwiak
Poem:
I am from cookie cutters from rainbow sprinkles and a white Kitchen aid mixer.
I am from the sparkle in the kitchen floor from my mother's own two hands.
I am from 3 sisters playing in corn fields, the smell of roses coming from the memory garden.
I am from competitive card games and asthma inhalers , from Darcey Jean and Emily Jane.
I am from over achievers and tell it like it is.
From be nice to your sisters and always tell the truth.
I am from communion every Sunday and love your neighbor as your self
I'm from York, PA, homemade mac and cheese, roast and carrots
From matching pajamas on Christmas Eve, and Halloween parties to scare even the bravest.
From the heartbreak of losing 2 children, to baby blue dreams come true on a plane from Korea
I am from home videos, Disney vacation pictures on the fireplace and wedding photos on the wall,
showing the love and shared faith of a family.
Comments: I feel like many of your lines could be lines for my poem as well! I particularly bond with the "over achievers" line and "Communion every Sunday" line.
Hi, Abbey, thank you for the personal honesty you brought to your poem. Now that I live in Lancaster, PA, it is so interesting to me to see how homemade mac and cheese is made. My version of chicken pot pie is nothing like the version in Dutch Country. :) (Shawn)
I smiled when you mentioned your mixer, I love to bake and my mixer is a huge part of that :) I am also from roast and carrots, most Sundays my mom made this. -Amy T.
Hi, Abbey , I like the imagery you used in your poem , especially the matching pajamas on Christmas, this is something my family does to. Your poem conveys a lot of happy memories that sound similar to my own memories of childhood. (KatieM)
Abbey, I enjoyed reading your poem that conveys the values that shaped your family. My favourite line is the sparkle in the kitchen floor. It makes me wonder if there was a sparkling particle hidden there or was the floor sparkling because it was so well cleaned? (Marz)
Name: John Pahls
Poem:
I am from long bike rides in Western Hills ; from homemade garlic butter popcorn skillfully made and coca cola weekend nights in front of the TV.
I am from the suburbs of a Midwestern city, former farmland now boxed and trimmed, subdivided, yet alive and loving.
I am from the blossoming trees in the front of the house of the small suburban plot, beautiful white and pink blossoms in the spring, rainy cool days.
I am from bowling trips with Dad and siblings on Christmas Eve, and Cincinnati Reds games in the summer, from Grandpa Henry and Uncle Clyde, Aunt Ebby, and the Pahls and the Adams.
I am from a reserved temperament and deeply held feelings.
From day dreaming and long treks in the summertime.
I am from the nearby neighborhood Catholic Church, big, expansive roof and large space, Mass in the afternoon, its tranquil atmosphere and soft lighting an alternative to the raucous, disordered, small but lively house.
I'm from Cincinnati, and Virginia, from German and Irish immigrants from the century before, from the wonderful smells of cooking at Christmas, mince meat pies, fruitcakes, caramel apple pies and small 8 ounce glasses of orange juice in the morning. No more than 8 ounces a day because it was too expensive.
From the breakfast made every morning by Mom waking up early, bacon, eggs and toast every Monday and Tuesday, chipped beef on toast or pancakes Wednesday and Thursday, Honey Dip doughnuts on Friday. Summer trips waking up early in the morning to avoid traffic.
I am from early memories of Dad coming home from work late, tall, with work shoes that boomed as he walked on the hardwood floors, of Mom being happy he is home and a secure feeling pervading the house. I am from Aunt Dolores throwing her head back and laughing loudly. I am from older cousins happy and loving, of long ago memories refreshed and restored through this exercise.
Comments:
John, I can completely relate to waking up early for vacations and driving before the traffic becomes too heavy. To this day, this practice is ingrained in me; I drag my family through this as well. (Shawn)
Name:Beth Mowrey
Poem:
I am from home cooked meals every night, from Archway cookies when we travel and the m&m jar.
I am from the 2 story colonial, the screened in porch, the swing set and sand box surrounded by giant pine trees.
I am from the family garden, tomatoes, prickly cucumbers, red beets that I’ll never eat, mom’s marigolds.
I am from long tables set up for Thanksgiving dinner and weekend day trips to visit my brothers and sisters, from Kate and Bill and the Albrights and Overbergers.
I am from the hard workers and family first motto.
From “always give a firm handshake” and “learn a new word everyday”
I am from a Catholic Faith that seemed like a chore, disappeared, and has now rekindled.
I'm from suburbia with sidewalks, pork and sauerkraut on New Year’s Day and Goodnoe’s ice cream or a Klondike bar at night.
From terminal colon cancer, the high cholesterol, the love through tough times.
I am from clear shoeboxes filled with photos containing my mother’s handwriting on the back, always cherished as a way to connect with those who are gone.
Comments:
Beth, Growing up, what were some of the new words that you still remember and use today? (Shawn)
Shawn- My dad would tell me that every morning when he got to work, he would pick a "big" word from the dictionary and then try to use it when talking with others throughout the day. This always gave me a chuckles as I envisioned my dad secretly peeking into a dictionary at his desk and snickering as he used it to impress others. I only wish I had the same habit!!!!
I think of my dad every time when I see Archway cookies-he loved them and I remember my mom buying them for him a lot :) This brings good memories to me. I can relate to being from hard-workers. My family always worked very hard at their jobs and in their lives. I know that work ethic was instilled in me over the years too. -Amy T.
Beth, I love that you wrote about a specific food when you traveled. We always ate egg salad sandwiches when we traveled to Michigan every summer to see my extended family. I love the firm handshake line. My family always talked about the importance of a firm handshake too.
Name: Amy
Beth the images of home cooked meals, pork and sauerkraut brought back my childhood memories:-) Marz
Poem:
Where I’m From
I am from laughter in the kitchen, from the ranch house on Madison Avenue that smelled of fresh baked cookies.
I am from the fresh sage, rosemary and thyme in the kitchen to the vibrant, red, geraniums in the flower pots in the yard in the summer.
I am from decorating for Christmas and courage, from mom and dad who never let me down.
I am from over-protectedness and love.
From stories of back in the day and all the fun that was had.
I am from spiritual beliefs and faith of something bigger than ourselves.
I am from being an only child to cinnamon buns and freshly baked pies that smelled of fruit and crust.
From the stories of my grandma’s alcohol recovery to my dad’s hard working years as a body shop mechanic. My father, so talented at re-making a car look brand new from wrecks and old age to shiny new parts and paint.
I am from family photos of vacations took and achievements made.
I am from all the places I was able to go and all the school I was able to attend. The different places visited and seen.The classes passed and degrees earned.
I am from pride, love and strength.
Comments:
Hi, Amy, It sounds like your family has quite a bit to be proud of. I enjoyed hearing about all of your memories. (Shawn)
Name: Katie Marsh
Poem:
I am from the dark, round dining room table my grandfather made, Ivory soap, and cheerios
I am from my grandma’s painting of a parade on the wall and potpourri simmering on the woodstove
I’m from the maple tree with the red and gold leaves swirling around me, the pond full of frogs and toads
I’m from hard boiled, cracked Easter eggs, determination, teachers, nurses, doctors, and artists
I’m from Neil Diamond records playing into the night
From, “This too shall pass” and “Now I lay me down to sleep”
I’m from freethinkers who would rather walk alone than follow the crowd
I’m from cherry orchards and honey keepers, fresh croissants and homemade blackberry jam
From two little girls who adore each other to this day, and hugged and loved and helped each other through thick and thin
I’m from a grandmother who died before I was born and left a hole in all our hearts, and a strong between sisters I call aunts
I’m from the framed photos on my dad’s walls, the photo albums in my mom’s closet, and the loving, crazy, and talented people I call my family
Comments:
Hi, Katie, your memory of your grandmother struck a chord with me, as my grandfather died before I was born. Unfortunately, my one grandmother passed 11 years ago on Christmas Eve, and my other grandmother died last spring. Cherish the memories you have with those around you for as long as possible! (Shawn)
Name: Lina
Poem:
I am from the cheese slicer, which holds my imaginary family together, from wine and restaurant pizza.
I am from the sea, the sun, open doors and windows for the salty air to breeze through.
I am from the Lady of the Night, which only blooms in the dark, the cactus who flowers only when shielded by darkness.
I am from no family tradition and long distance, from Len and Daniel and Makoa, who I haven’t met yet, and Elizabeth, my substitute mama.
I am from the blaming and holding silence.
From ‘you sound like an elephant coming up the stairs’ and ‘get me the newspaper’.
I am from questioning and curiosity, agnostic at most on my Believing days.
I'm from Curaçao and the Ivory Coast and Denmark, goat stew and tangy cilantro too.
From the fight against cancer to the end, the tumors that don’t let go, the bitterness of a life not fully lived.
I am from the Redwoods and flamingos, a time once upon a time, when we were a family.
Comments:
Lina, the sounds you describe sound familiar to what I heard in my house. You referenced 'the blaming and holding silence.' Was that a large part of your childhood? (Shawn)
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